The Last Dance
by Something Illusory
Summary: —2x18 DE scene as it should of went—  The words roll off of his tongue slowly and surely and she can't help but feel weak under the intense stare of an age old vampire. "I will always choose you."


He could still feel the slap to his face. Of course, Elena's weak slap wasn't the one he was talking about. _That _brief pain was gone only seconds after she had delivered it to his cheek. No; he was thinking about the mental pain she had caused him when she immediately decided that he was worthy of slapping at all. It wasn't like she hadn't slapped him before. He had deserved it then.

But not now. He had to admit that Elena slapping him was completely unnecessary and he didn't deserve it for a millisecond. But he doesn't blame her for her reaction. He had kept Bonnie's fake death a secret from her. He allowed her to go through that emotional loss of losing her best friend. And that, he guesses, was where he was worthy of it a _tiny _bit.

He storms out of his bathroom prepared to get to bed and forget about every damn thing that happened tonight. But something catches the corner of his eye and his instincts tell him that this person is human. He immediately knows who it is.

"Ugh," he groans as Elena stands awkwardly in his doorway. "Look, Klaus had to think she was dead." He insists, throwing his leather jacket down on his bed and turning to look at her. "Your reaction had to be real."

He says this because he knows that she will most likely put a fight with. Tell him how wrong it was to kill Bonnie (more or less). Tell him how incredibly stupid it was for not letting her in the plan.

To his shock, she whispers, "I understand why you did what you did." His forehead crumbles and his eyebrows pull together in confusion. Did she, now?

She blinks rapidly but speaks so softly and slowly that he wishes he knew what was going on through her mind. "Klaus was fooled and.." She takes a deep breath, eyes now focused solely on him. "Bonnie's alive."

He shrugs, holding up his glass of bourbon and makes the motion of a toast. "Here's to duplicity." he suggests, raising his eyebrows and bringing the glass to his lips. She steps her way into his room and makes her way toward where he stands.

"Let's get one thing straight, Damon." Ah, the famous words of Elena Gilbert! He knew she came here for something. And this was it. This was going to be his lesson, wasn't it? "Bonnie _will not _die for me. I will _not_ let that happen." She insists bravely and studying his facial reaction to her words.

He almost rolls his eyes. "We need to kill Klaus, Elena. Real Klaus." The words are a strong statement, insisting that killing Klaus was the only thing that mattered. No matter who died, he needed to be killed. "Who will probably be coming to pay you a visit soon now that he knows that Bonnie's dead." Damon adds lightly.

Elena shakes her head, disapproval clearly written on her features. Damon frowns. "She's the only one who can do it." He says tiredly. Elena steps closer, head still shaking and her eyes locked onto his.

"We'll find another way."

Damon blinks at her. "I hope so." For once, he is sincere. He doesn't want to watch witchy die - no matter how annoying she is. He doesn't want to see Elena go through the pain of losing another person in her life….except, this was the only way. To him, it was either Bonnie or Elena. That's what he had to choose from.

Her eyes flutter to the floor and she nervously tucks a brunette strand of hair behind her hair. "Look," she begins, eyes peering up to meet his. "I shouldn't of hit you."

His face twitches. "Apology accepted."

The tiniest bit of a smile reaches the corner of her lips. _How forgiving he is, _she notices. But there is no doubt in her mind that Damon would forgive her for anything. He was simply like that with her. A grudge holding douchebag to everyone else but a forgiving soul to her. She turns the slightest, meaning to leave the room. But he stops her.

"Let _me _be clear about something." He insists. She turns, holding gazes with him. "If it comes down to you and the witch again I will _gladly _let Bonnie die."

Her lips part and she looks at him in protest, though it doesn't exactly process to her that he is declaring he would chose her above all. All she hears is _I will let Bonnie die._ And that part of him wounds her because she had hoped he would be more considerate toward the witch that had saved his life at least once.

The words roll off of his tongue slowly and surely and she can't help but feel weak under the intense stare of an age old vampire. "I will _always_ choose you."

Her mind goes blank. Wait.._what?_ She blinks uncertainly. Her stomach twists into a tight knot. Elena Gilbert is speechless.

_ But doesn't he always have the affect on me? _She muses to herself. Damon has had her tongue-tied many times before. Except this time it is different because she can't look away. All she can do is practically melt into him, heated by the smoldering look of adoration and pure honesty on his face.

He breaks them off by looking away and taking a drink of his bourbon. He had felt slightly unease telling Elena exactly what everyone assumed: He loved her. And he would do anything for her.

"That doesn't mean you should." she says quietly, now being the stubborn Elena he was used to. "I don't _want _you to choose me …over anyone else. Especially not over someone that will die and doesn't deserve to."

His eyes blaze. "You know it will happen anyway. You _really_ expect me to stand by and watch you die when I know that someone else could die for you?" He scowls.

Elena frowns and steps closer to him, their faces only inches apart. She can smell what he is drinking; it radiates off of him in a way that identifies him. It's his smell, in a way. "Yes, Damon. I do. That's exactly what I expect. Because I can't stand the idea of anybody dying for me when they don't have to. It's always going to be me. Never anyone else. Just me." she insists. _So why should they have to die? _

He almost growls. "Exactly. It's always going to be you, Elena. I can't see anyone else besides you. I don't _care_ if Bonnie dies. I don't _care _who dies; I** only **care about you."

She takes a step back, eyes travelling to his lips. _He's so close_, she realizes. And what is he saying, exactly? That he only cares about her. She can't expect him to care about anyone else because he doesn't. Damon will never care about anyone if it meant losing Elena.

Something inside of her tells her to reach up and touch his face. He looks so angry and so irritated that something inside of her swells and whispers, 'Calm him.' And so she does, reaching up her fingertips to lightly trace his cheekbone. He holds very still: wondering what the hell she's doing.

_Has she gone mad?_

"You have to care." She whispers, her breath fanning across his face. He inhales deeply, his sea-blue orbs finding her milky browns. Without really thinking about it, he leans into her hand. She exhales, discovering that she's been holding her breath since first deciding to reach up towards him. "You have to care about Bonnie. And..Stefan. And Caroline. And Jeremy. For me, Damon. You have to care about them and what happens to them because if you don't…" her eyes trail to the floor. "If you don't, caring for me will be pointless. Because they're apart of me too. Losing them means losing a part of me."

He stares at her, trying to wrap his head around what she's saying. Of course he cared for them. Deep down he never wanted any of them to be hurt. But it was all a matter of choosing. A choice. It was either _them _or Elena. "It's them or you." was all he whispered. "And I won't lose you. I…I don't choose that." he said softly, knowing that his answer will not please her.

She meets his eyes once more before dropping her hand and stepping back. She nods the slightest. Exhaling, she whispers, "Good night, Damon." And so, Elena turns and exits the bedroom. So many things whirl inside of her head. Mainly, the feel of his skin against her fingertips.

"Good night." he whispers after she is already gone.

He slowly raises a hand to his cheek and feels where her hand had just been a minute ago. His cheek burns with the memory and he shakes his head, bringing the bourbon to his lips once more.

_I don't choose that._


End file.
